slowly i start to speak
by eatwithjin
Summary: A question we all want an answer to - why did Sasa become a hero? set pre-canon, and an OC is heavily involved (do not ship him with sasa!). I don't want this kind of hero story and my third one at that.
1. Chapter 1

**a/n:** hello hello. well! i've been wanting to write this for a while but i'll haveta admit i struggled a lot. although i do think i can relate to him at times, sasa's voice is very... _different_ from what im used to writing hahaha. tbh i referenced a 1st POV style of a death row inmate for him so lmao. umm i did not write out sasa's lisp cause it's first person so i think he likes to think he's saying whatever he's trying to say and like all my idwtkoh shit, this is set in pre-canon. oh, the song is based off a real song, but i changed it to rhyme a bit lol.

criticize my sasa please. thanks and much thank to my editor, **SmolAsianBean**.

* * *

 **•**

 _slowly i start to speak_ **  
one**

•

I don't know why, but when people talk to me, they ask me why I'd become a hero. And I would stand there with this look of disbelief, like no one had ever asked me this before. They always do, eventually they do, and I could never give them the right answer. A long time ago, I may have given them some semblance of an answer, but after everything that's happened, I don't know anymore.

Once, I asked Naga and he burst out crying. Between sobs, he told me about the volunteer hours, and the university screening. I remembered SPOON was still doing that. I couldn't relate.

Twice, I asked Hyena. She'd told me it was because of her sister, the Chief. I could see the reasoning in that. The second time, I'd forgotten and she swatted me with her broom, yelling about incessant questions. I had forgotten because I asked her the first time four years ago.

Why _did_ I become a hero?

I guess the answer lied somewhere in my past. There had to be, there was a moment I decided my goal was to be a hero, and while the reason to that decision changed, I still stuck to this path. I don't regret being a hero, even though a lot has happened. Well, a lot of stuff happened back then too. I'm not exactly sure when this shift occurred, but something about being a hero continued to call for me.

It's weird, I think. That call was made up of different sounds, of different people. It's not a bunch of voices saying the same thing either. It's like my mother singing words, dulcet and disturbing, my father stuffing sobs in weathered palms, my Hyung-nim pushing me on and onward, further and farther.

And then my brother's. A voice like the aftermath of a long day giving way to soft, sweet sleep. His was low, but steadily rose louder and louder, wanting, needing to be heard.

It's like their voices had melded together, yet still separated as I can make out precious individuals, and I hold them cupped in my hands, like shiny diamonds, glittering, impossible for me to miss. Like they've taken their voices for my sake, reached deep into their throats, and given them to me, whether they liked it or not. All in the name of my calling. A hero couldn't ignore an incitation like that, not when it was comprised of those closest to them. So, I guess, well, I think… The call may be all theirs, but the answer had always lied in my own voice. Mine, alone.

•

The day started like any other—this, I could remember every small detail.

The day began with light of dawn stretching into the morning sky, my father was already up before the sun even peeked from the mountainous horizon. He didn't have to, but he'd walk over to my brother and my shared room. As though it would break apart, he would knock gingerly upon the door. While I was up to help Dad's morning routine, Sara was awake only to take our father's space in bed.

As Dad prepared for work, I made breakfast. Kinda. Mom would leave the ingredients chopped and stuff, so all I had to do was mix it altogether and make rice. By then, Dad was ready and we would eat breakfast together. Well, kinda again. My uncles would be awake as well. At the window, they gathered upon the windowsill like a streak of midnight amidst morning glass and cawed for their arrival. I'd let them in to pick at our food with their pinchy beaks. Though we can understand them well, Dad would mostly talk to me.

That morning was nothing out of the ordinary. He'd tell me what was up at the farm, and I'd tell him what secret snacks Sara and I planned to catch in the tall grasses. Dad didn't talk a lot for everyone. So I liked hearing him speak when he was the quiet, listening type.

I guess that's rich coming from me. _Ha ha_.

Afterward, we washed dishes together as the open window invited our neighbors' chirping and twittering into the kitchen. Just like with human languages, they were incomprehensible to us. We could only understand crows. Though some of them sounded far nicer than our throaty squawks. I told Dad that once. Amazingly, he laughed and told me not to tell my constantly-cawing aunt.

Our uncles would flee outside, arcing above the roof tiles, when Dad made his goodbyes. He'd soundlessly flap his way back to his room. In bed, my mother would be dead-asleep with Sara glued on top of her. Because of our wings, we had to sleep on our side or our stomachs. Sara was getting used to his belly, but that meant he slept squished-cheek-to-squished-cheek against Mom. Like always, his wings were slightly spanned out, making it harder for Dad.

Dad didn't mind. Well, he was more amused than anything else and would ruffle Sara's hair. Without a word, he kneeled by Mom's side, searched for her hand, and brought the back of it to his lips. It took a moment before her hand reacted, fingers outward, then patted his cheek. I watched this exchange as I always did, wondering why they were always excessively like this.

Once he closed the door behind him, Dad waved me to the front. I'd fetch his scratchy, working gloves as he would put on his windbreaker. He nodded as his way of thanks. More than half of the sun peeked into the sky by the time we set flight. I wasn't allowed to go with him the whole way. It was nice, though, to fly in this limited time together. We would fly until the quarter-mile mark, until we passed a withered apple tree.

Dad's parting words to me that morning were, "You're flying better, Sasa."

Better, but not enough. I would try to fly the rest of the way, but I didn't have the strength. Disappointment weakened my wings, enough to send me ground-bound. Like always, my feet tapped onto the dirt pathway leading me back to home. Walking took longer when my vision blurred with frustration. I was stronger than this, I knew.

On the way home, other farmers would greet me out of politeness, and even though I hated it, I would greet them back. My mother told me even though I hated it, there were times I had to speak. "Good morning" was one of them, even though that phrase was cursed for me. Sometimes I even had to say it first. The farmers weren't like that, but I shied my head away the moment I closed my mouth.

"Is that you, my eldest?" called Mom. The front door slid open creakily, worse than loose floorboards.

My lips pressed together, I turned the corner. From the kitchen stove, she squinted at me with a silver spoon in hand. Sleep still lingered in her almond-shaped eyes, but they smiled and gleamed as she waved me over to her.

"Good morning, Sasa," she sang, kissing my cheek. In her embrace, I squinted. "Did you tell your father to have a good day at work?"

I did, right after he complimented my flying. The weight from before eased off, allowing me to hover above the floor a few inches. Mom usually didn't allow me and Sara to fly in the house, even if it was for a tiny second. Pressing firmly upon my head, she waited until I landed. "Go wake up your brother, okay?" she said, and turned back to the stove. "Tell him breakfast is ready."

He was right where I'd last seen him. Still on his belly, Sara claimed our parents' bed for himself and was twisted among the single blanket. I kneeled beside him like Dad did to Mom. Sara could hardly wake up like Mom, but he didn't look anything like her.

Neither of us looked anything like her.

A hand on his shoulder, I said, "Sara? Sara, wake up." He continued to sleep. "Breakfast is ready." The same response. I tried to shake him awake. "You leave me no choice."

That was how Mom saw us enter the kitchen. His wings got in the way so I had to carry him into the kitchen, his face drooling onto my collarbone. I dropped him into a chair as payback, but his wing accidentally whacked the wooden frame. He didn't make a sound at first, just scrunched up his eyes and mouth. With her super-sharp Mom hearing, she whipped her head toward me.

That wasn't good.

Finally awake, Sara wailed, "Hyuuuuuunng!"

In my defense, I said, "You should've wake up."

Mom gave me the evil eye just as she swept him into her arms. Needless whispering quieted his crying, but that wasn't enough. When Mom sat him down at the table, she stood behind him as she said to me, "Apologize to your brother."

There was no reason for that. "It was an accident."

I thought it would be off her mind when she suddenly turned around and rushed for the stove. She came back to stand her ground. "Sasa, you should speak to apologize for accidents too. Another sub-rule."

There were so many of those. "Nm 'wy."

"What?" she and Sara said.

My hands wrung together and I stared at a steaming cup of rice before Sara. "I'm sorry."

My brother shrugged, like he didn't care anymore. He probably didn't. Mom nodded in approval before she returned to the stove, spooled out a bowl of soup, and placed it beside his rice. Before Sara could lift his spoon, Mom held her hand over his.

"Now, Sara, you've done wrong too."

He blinked with Dad's eyes, immense and expressive. "Me?"

Eyebrow raised, Mom pointed to me. "C'mon."

Sara didn't care. Why would he? Unlike me, his words came out the way they were meant to be said, sometimes in a pleasant string of sentences. Similar to when Mom sang. He didn't know how lucky he was. "I'm sorry for making you say sorry?" he guessed and tried for his spoon again.

Her hold on him didn't budge one bit. "Sara?" she urged, and glanced at me as I took a seat beside him. I wasn't hungry, but lifted Mom's spoon as if I was. "Sara, you know why."

"I'm sorry! I'm gonna wake up next time," he huffed, crossing his arms. "Can I eat now?"

Though he was staring straight at her, Mom glanced at me. I shrugged like I didn't care. "Sure, honey, go eat."

Then there was a sound like pebbles hitting glass, but it was only my cousins. Exactly like my uncles, they were perched upon the windowsill and tapped at the window with their beaks. This time, when I invited the four of them inside, my mom sliced _chamoe_ for them. While Sara jealously hurried to finish breakfast, I broke off edible pieces and offer them for my cousins. I could only break off one at a time so there was a bit of a scuffle. Mom would shake her head as they emitted various caws, but Sara and I heard them yelling, "Mine! Mine! Mine!" The ends of their smooth beaks would poke into my fingers. Then the winner would be screeching, "Thank you! Thank you!"

As Mom plugged one finger into her ear, she said, "Sasa, did they want to go to the market with us?"

My eldest cousin responded. Mom knitted her eyebrows together at her. I translated, "Yeah, they do." Then my second-youngest cousin cawed as well. His reply was longer, along with a small flap of his wings. I answered for her, "Auntie is coming with us ."

"Alrighty." Mom cleaned up the table, Sara immediately putting down his silverware to grab the last slice of _chamoe_ , and she scooted back her chair. "We're going to leave early today."

Now Sara was surrounded by constant cawing. Breaking off pieces like I did, Sara shoved them toward the circle of our cousins and said, "Early? Mom, there's nothing good going on when we go early."

Mom had her back to us. "We're going early so I can grab some bean sprouts, make your father's lunch, and then we can all head together to give it to him, alright?"

"Yeah!" I cheered.

Glancing at me, Sara parroted, "Yeah!"

"Perfect. Let's all be ready in half an hour, alright?"

By then, my aunt joined us as well. My cousins would flock around my brother, cawing over each other and flapping their onyx wings around him, while I stayed by Mom's side to translate. My aunt rode on Mom's shoulder to tell her what happened in the family. Though Mom wasn't really that interested, she said she was 'delighted' to be included in their bird drama.

"Auntie's youngest tricked another human again," I said. A hand over her eyes, Mom sighed as I listened to my aunt squawk in rapid succession. "Since Sara showed him how to use money, our cousin figured out to give random coins to little kids." I paused when my aunt sounded like she was cawing some more, but she was actually laughing. "He'd drop the coins specifically near the fresh corn stand and the kids would buy it for him."

Mom lowered her hand to her cheek. "How kind of them."

I sniggered, "Corn's a half-dollar a cob. He purposely dropped 10 cents."

My aunt cackling beside Mom, I looked over to Sara. He was already hovering with our cousins soaring toward the market. Before I could join them, Mom ran into a group of neighborhood women. They had these faces my aunt would have so I stuck close to Mom.

"Morning, everyone," greeted Mom.

They all tittered back their own greetings, then immediately turned to me and Sara. He also felt protective of Mom, but clung to me. That was only because he liked mirroring my straight stature and he could hide behind me. Still, that didn't work when they edged closer to me and my brother, like vultures with motherless cubs. Or the corpse of one.

I pretty much felt like dying when they pinched my cheeks. Not even Sara was spared as they smothered us with baby talk and adoring coos. We were well above that age, but at least it was useless now to say my hello's.

"Sasa. Sara," she prompted.

Danggit. "Gud mo'nin'," I said with my cheek pulled like dumpling dough. They didn't notice my lisp like this.

"How adorable! How handsome! What beautiful, baby boys!" they crowed. Funny, wasn't it. All at once, they turned their heads to Mom. "Doing some babysitting again, aren't you, Sabe?"

Like always, Mom took offense and gripped her bag with strained fists. Cawing, my aunt flew off her shoulder and said something about searching for our cousins. It was like Mom didn't hear—well, I guess she didn't—, 'cause she stepped forward and replied dryly, "No, I'm not. I suppose the eighteen months I've spent carrying my own sons were a long term delusion."

"Pregnant? Sabe, I believe you were gaining some weight," one of them laughed. But most of them had their hands over their open mouths. Mom's smile twitched, not in a good way. "My, Sabe, you were always the joker when you were younger."

They never listened. This was a sub-rule to speaking; there was no use arguing when you know it's a losing battle. Mom didn't like to lose, but she told me there were some stuff you have to let go. Like this stuff.

Oh, right. Those ladies weren't completely mistaken. Dad was a raven-half, or a human with huge, raven wings. Mom was one-hundred percent human. If my math was right, Sara and I were quarter-ravens, yet we took mostly, or everything, after our father. The ladies would mention that we were miniature versions of Dad, but Mom didn't get mad at that.

"They'll grow up to be so handsome! Look at these big dark eyes and, oh, what beautiful double lids!" I swore they would've poked our eyes out if they could and admire our eyeballs within their fingers. "How unfortunate that you, Sabe, couldn't look—"

Mom got mad at this.

"We must be going," Mom said through a strained smile. "Let's talk lots more next time." Their cooing rose like the wind, a sort of breathy screech of protest. With that, Mom ignored them, grabbed Sara's and my hand, and dragged us toward the marketplace.

Talking about appearances was touchy for Mom. I knew about it but never dared to bring it up. It was one of the unspoken things—Mom's things that shall not be spoken—that while never said aloud, I could tell.

By their standards, Mom was not pretty.

But Dad said she was. I believe him. Beyond pretty, with something burning brighter than looking through rose-colored glasses, he said he'd been captivated in that moment. Like that was a long time ago, that moment he locked eyes with Mom. Back when they were kids, Dad was too busy to attend a human's school, and instead stalked around the school courtyard whenever he broke away from farming. He got caught staring at Mom when she was opening her lunchbox. She told me it was repulsive, her rice crawling with ants because she didn't close the lid properly. But then she noticed Dad. Instead of looking at her, he stared at her lunch with a different look in his eyes.

Mom said it was first love for him when she offered it to him.

Even though the freshest of food surrounded us, Sara and I perked up. Behind the grains stand, my cousins were feasting upon a bunch of crickets. Before we could join them, Mom grabbed the scruff of our necks and sighed. "Boys. Please." Hands on our shoulders, she turned us around. "I'll buy you anything you want if you don't."

"Raspberries," blurted Sara.

Mom said okay as I whispered to him, "We can put some in later."

Locking our secret, he nodded. Our cousins were done snacking, flying away to a more insect-infested area. We followed them since there was nothing interesting around the market at this time. Mom yelled at us to come back in ten minutes. We said okay just as our aunt swooped over our heads to perch back on Mom again.

In a woodsy area behind the ugly trinket stands, my cousins found more crickets and other yummy assortments, but we had promised Mom. For a while, we sat there in the grass, watching them in jealousy as they screeched, "That's mine! This is mine!"

"Hey."

At once, Sara leaned into me as I looked up. A bundle of nerves blocked my throat when I saw two men. One of them looked middle-aged, the other a teenager, but both of them had sunhats brimming over their eyes. Our cousins screeched at them, shouting, "Go! Go away!"

The middle-aged man said, "Do you know where the market is?"

"Go away! Get away away from us!"

Breaking into a strange grin, the teenager repeated, "Do y'all know if we're close by to tha' market?"

My throat unlocked a bit. Barely audible, I pointed and stuttered, "D-down that way."

"Thanks, kid!" the teenager said with his hands in his pockets. Then he stretched his arms out, handfuls of candy. "You want some as somethin' of our gratitude?"

"No," squeaked Sara. Terrified as well, I looped my arm around his trembling waist.

"Go away! Go, go, go! Stay away from us!"

"Annoying-ass birds," the other man hissed, swiping a stick at my cousins. The cacophony of their caws burst in volume when they flew frighteningly in one place. Over Sara and me. I thought if we gave another five seconds, they would have left us alone. But then there was that damned brightness. Seeing it first, one of our cousins settled on the teenager's outstretched arm. He pecked at something else among the sweets, which shone and reflected light in the most dazzling way.

Our other cousins were bedazzled. So were we as my brother and I shuffled towards him with slight of caution, curiosity brimming in our eyes. I was the one who held it, a strange boxy silver thing. Whatever it was, it was shiny with light and I wanted it more than I would ever want candy.

"What is this?" I marveled. Sara clung to me and poked it with interest.

The two men looked at each other. Something passed between them, something I couldn't understand. Then the teenager spoke again, his hands stuffed back into his pockets. "I have some more if you and your birds want 'em?"

We were caught, but my eldest cousin cawed, "Don't trust him."

My tongue touched the top of mouth. It was harder to speak this way. I could have run instead, but the shiny, bright thing in my hand was anchoring me here. "I'll have to ask Mom."

"What was that?" Before I could correct my lisp, the teenager waved his hand and brushed me off. "Sure, sure, but if you come with me first, you can have all the lighters you want."

"Lighter?" repeated Sara. I allowed him to hold it next, too frozen to stop him. "It's so shiny."

"Shiny! So shiny! Super shiny!"

My eldest cousin shook her head, and rested upon my shoulder. Though I could hear my other cousins overwhelming me, over my own thoughts, her voice was clearer than any crystal. "Do not listen to him," she advised, her nails biting around my neck. "When I signal, you will scream 'run' for us."

"Hey, kid," the teenager said, fixating on me. The other man was gone, who knew where. "Kid, I'm making you a great deal, you know?" The more steps he took toward me, the more my heart hammered in my head. I awfully wanted for my cousin to speak up. But he came closer.

"Now," she called, lifting her wings behind me.

My tongue lowered, my lips parted, my breath escaped, but my voice was gone.

"Sasa! Sara—"

When I swiveled around to face my savior, my one and only mother, something cracked against my head. I'd only turn to see nobody waiting for me. Nobody but darkness.

•

 _Poor legless little bird,  
will your lonely cries be heard?_

 _Where will you go  
when rough rains flow?_

 _Dear clouds, do you know?  
Dear stars, do you know?  
Dear moon, do you know?_

 _Lost without your mother,  
will your cries reach any other? _

I awoke to chains weighing my arms and legs down. In the dimmed light, my eyes trailed my restraints to the wall of a wooden carriage. The floorboards would bump around every so often, I'd just noticed. Fear was hiding in every corner of this unknown space, but mostly within me twisting my insides with anxiety. I craned my head toward the closest warmth I knew best. My mother embracing my brother with both arms, locked to each other, but her mouth was closest to me. Comfort at its core. It was her singing all this time.

My lips felt dry, cracked even. "Mommy?"

"Hmm? Awake, my eldest?" she hummed.

"Sing something else."

"Why not, baby?"

"Makes me sad."

Warm, her giggle evaporated in my hair. "It's your brother's favorite." Remembering him, I tried my best to see into his face. Mom moved her hand a bit for me. He looked kinda okay except for these tiny rivulets of blood drying upon his forehead. "He hasn't woken up yet, but Sara is alright," Mom told me.

"Mommy?"

"Hmm?"

I curled into her side, my left wing fluttering against her shoulder. "Where are we?"

Like it solved everything, she kissed my cheek. "Doesn't matter. We'll get out soon enough. I've sent your cousins to alert your father." I didn't like that. Then that would have to mean— "Your aunt and her daughter are flying above and keeping track of where we're going. It shouldn't take long for your father to gather some help, wouldn't it?" she soothed, caressing my matted hair with her cheek.

Help sounded like hopeless in a place like this. When I finally summoned enough courage to look around, I could see three other families. A willow-tree spirit and her son, our neighbors from a few blocks down. I didn't recognize the others; a squirrel-hybrid couple and a teenage quail huddling with four or five chickling boys.

"Sasa, my son," called Mom. I buried my face into her sweater, and tried to block everything out but my mother. "Your father is coming for us, alright? Sasa? Don't worry, okay?"

But I did.

• • •


	2. Chapter 2

•

 _slowly i start to speak_  
 **two**

•

Sara didn't wake up until after we were transported into a wooden building. The men I had seen before were joined by three others; the five of them rounded us up and shoved us around like we were the criminals. At first, the quail guy resisted as soon as we were unchained. But then one of the men swung a metal bar at his leg. I gaped as the quail guy buckled onto the ground and muffled his sobs with dirt.

Terror gripped my throat like a vice. I stayed quiet, even when the quail chicklings surrounded the quail guy and blubbered something soft. Though I feared for her, Mom handed Sara to me before hurrying to help the quail-guy. No one else dared to pull anything after that.

These men—the kidnappers, Mom told me—didn't do much after that. They locked us into another room and stationed two kidnappers at the door, according to the dog-lady. She and her husband soothed the quail chicklings while Mom fixed their brother's injury. Because of Sara's and my childish shenanigans, she'd always kept a basic medical kit on her person. I would never imagine it to be used in this situation.

All the while, I made sure Sara was okay. He slept like the dead. A slow sense of dread tainted my thoughts, and I found my hand pressed to his chest. It rose up, drifted down, and kept this rhythm for what could've been hours until he jerked, snorted, and startled himself awake.

Once he recognized me, he said, "Hyung?" I pointed a few meters away to Mom who was consoling the quail guy. Sara's wings flapped once and folded in on themselves, like mine were. "What's going on…?"

I wanted to tell him how utterly screwed we were, but I decided to parrot Mom, "Doesn't matter. Auntie and her daughter are outside. They said they'll keep watch for Dad 'cause our cousins are flying to get him."

For a moment, my answer quieted Sara, like Mom's did to me. But as I watched my brother, the doubt knotted his eyebrows, pressed his lips together in a thin line. He didn't believe me. The weird thing was I didn't either. Mom told me the information, but I could only trust her out of everyone I know. Well, no, not just her. There was Mom and Dad, the latter seeming more like a far-off dream, even if he was the one flying to us.

I wondered if he was on his way now.

In their own corner, the willow family suddenly scooted closer to us. Her son close behind her, she spoke up, "We need to escape."

"Agreed," the dog husband said gravely, three chicks bundling in his lap.

The quail guy smiled sardonically before he said, "Any of y'all think we can try anything I just did?"

The dog husband shook his head. "I believe you should have never been met with violence, but that kind of treatment was to be expected." Quail guy looked like he was about to spit, but Mom held him back. "We are dealing with racist kidnappers here, not your everyday criminal," he stated.

One of the chicks chirped, "Racist?"

"Sweetheart," the dog wife murmured disapprovingly, "careful with your words there."

"They deserve to know," the willow son piped up. He looked like he was a few years older than me, yet younger than the quail guy. "The humanity of humans, mystical creatures, and in between has come to its worst. If we die here, they deserve to know why."

His mother whacked his head and blushed. "I'm sorry, my stupid son is going through his nihilist phase so please don't let it rub off on those lovely chicks."

"What's nihilist?" whispered Sara to me. I thought about it for a second and shrugged.

Finally, as the leading voice of reason in my household, Mom rubbed a hand to her cheek and sighed. "As true as that may be, let's think of the best-case scenario, shall we?" Smiling as best as Mom did, she clapped her hands lightly. Everyone began to huddle around her, including Sara and me. "We are in a dreadful situation, I hate to admit. However, there are silver linings in these dreadful grey clouds, such as my relative crows are coming for us. They are already on their way to contact my husband who will be informed about our situation."

Her hand off her son's head, the willow mother asked, "Just your husband?"

"I'm certain once he hears what's going on, he will report to the authorities."

"It's just a waiting game then?" the quail guy asked.

"I suppose it is," Mom hummed, gathering her skirts, before waving us over. Instantly, Sara and I clung to her side as she was the sole sanctuary in this frightening, foreign place. "I suppose we should keep quiet since help is on the way. Escaping for ourselves would be ideal but we have children with us. I'm afraid it will have to be our last resort."

The dog husband crept closer to the circle, and when he spoke, it almost sounded like he was barking. "That last resort may happen sooner than we think. I propose we plan our way out now before it will be too late."

"I have to agree with him there," his wife said, raising her hand timidly. "We may be in no pressure to escape now, but it would be best to have one if the situation arises."

In a small chattering now, the willow family and the quail-guy began to side with them as well. That only left Mom who was brushing Sara's hair in thought. Her hand ended up messing up his hair in his usual style when she sighed and consented, "I see no harm in that."

Mom wouldn't let me listen in their plans. Instead she assigned me and Sara to play with the quail chicks. I was aware this wasn't to distract the chicks, but to group Sara and me as the babies. The real babies got tired of "I Spy" fast, but took their time listening to Sara. Not that it bothered me, but they were so slow, they kept ganging up on him to sing the same song over and over until he switched to his favorite.

" _Dear stars, do you know? Dear moon, do you know?_ " he sang, exactly like Mom did. The chicks clustered in his lap, and Sara drank in their attention.

Beside my brother, I was quiet, but ultimately weak to let a frown get to me. This should've been the least of my worries, and yet. I had this thought from time to time. It was superficial and it popped its ugly head often enough. It told me I was cursed two times over with my stupid lisp and my stupid awkwardness, that Sara was blessed two times over with appealing looks to match his especially appealing voice. Maybe he shared his looks with me too, but that was something I didn't want when I didn't like being spoken to.

Had whomever crapped me over ever thought of that?

Breaking me out of these awful thoughts, Sara's voice softened to a heavy-hearted tenor. " _Lost without your mother, will your cries reach any other?_ "

"It fits." The willow boy came over. Cool, he took a seat beside me and whipped back droopy bangs. When he turned to me, I saw his eyes were green, a forever gloomy green, if that was possible.

Watching my brother, I said, "What fits?"

He paused, taking in my lisp, before replying, "Your brother's song. Kinda relatable, ain't it?"

I didn't really think past how the song sounded. He must've meant the lyrics or something. "You and I both have our moms."

Scowling, he rolled his eyes. "I meant," he enunciated and faced me, "everyone here is the little bird. We're lost. I ain't gonna explain that. We're legless. We're at a great disadvantage compared to the 'rough winds' that have kidnapped us. Gettin' it?" What he said sounded a lot like when my cousins tried to teach me about books and stuff. The face I made said enough to him. "In the grand scheme of things, we're little. Puny, worthless, little things that can only be classified as below human by those who declared themselves better, more worthwhile."

My head tilted at that. "My mom's human."

"Your mom's grouped with us."

"Who's us?"

"Holy shit," he sniggered and his bangs flopped over his eyes. They were mocking me, I thought. "Do you know why you're here? Or are you like those oblivious chicks?"

I thought I did. Mom did tell me before. Her older brother—or the uncle I've never met—he refused to give Mom over to Dad as her wife. Dad pleaded with him a lot to have his blessing, but he told him he would never, _ever_ accept him as his brother-in-law. That hurt Dad's feelings a lot more than he would think. Mom also told me her brother was dead to her.

"There are people… who don't like us… so they want to hurt us?" I guessed.

When I mentioned 'us,' his shoulders perked up. "Dude," he said with an all-knowing grin. Not that I would tell him, but it scared me. "If they wanted to hurt us, they'd get that shit over with in the first minute they got us. This—" he swept his arm at Sara and the chicks then to the adults talking, "—is much larger and much more terrifying than violence from hate."

"What is?"

"Do you really want to know?" For a moment, I wanted to say no but I just said nothing at all. "Obviously—"

The door banged open. Luckily, no one was near the door. We were all clustered toward the back. Talking among themselves, the kidnappers stalked toward us and, at once, the adults ushered us behind them. Sara and I hid behind Mom, right underneath a barred window. I never noticed it before. While the kidnappers were surrounding the dog couple, I tried out my wings, flying just enough to press my face between the bars.

Outside, Auntie was perched on a tree nearby. As soon as she saw me, she explained, "I've sent my daughter to meet the others halfway. They're coming soon. Are you alright?"

Immediately, I shook my head and risked a low caw of distress.

"Hyung!" hissed Sara and he yanked me down. It was a quick yank, enough to pull me back onto the ground without too much noise. "They're coming!"

Two kidnappers stopped before us, one of them with a pen and notebook. I couldn't see Mom's face but her hands pushed Sara and me behind her. That didn't stop them. They just waltzed around her and gripped our wrists. Their hold was strong enough to pass off as a restraint, and tight enough to be painful. At first, I flailed my wings like I was flightless and, next to me, Sara squealed from shock.

As fast as their hands were on us, Mom forced their hands off. This time, we were smushed to her sides and her arms wrapped protectively across our shoulders. Her touch enough was to fold my wings against my spine. Sara calmed down as well, hiding his face among her skirts, but I wanted to see.

Defiant, Mom said in a steady, stern voice, "You will not touch my sons."

"Your sons?" They laughed and shared a glance. Like everyone else, they doubted her. "Y'know, we'd let you go if you wanted to?"

Mom didn't reply, just gave them her evil eye. Usually, it worked on Sara and me. It should go without saying it wouldn't with heartless kidnappers.

While one of them wrote down stuff, the other said, "Good looking _sons_ you have there." The one writing whispered something, so he added on, "Crow boys, huh?" Then his hand whipped out again—piercing my chest with panic—and dove past me to wrench Sara from Mom.

This time, the rest of them came forward and held Mom down. At least, her hold on me was secure, but my wide-eyed stare locked with my brother's. As Mom yelled at them to let him go, Sara burst into tears when their hands pinched one of his wings, stretched it out to its full wingspan. They ignored Mom and wrote down more stuff, preoccupied with whatever they were doing.

So they didn't notice when something _thumped_ behind me, from the barred window. The kidnappers held Mom back but not me. Still, it was a huge risk for me to move. Luckily, the willow boy sidled up next to me a minute later and passed me the dropped something to me.

Shaking his head at my whimpering brother, he said, "That crow your family?"

My fingers pressed against it. Cold, smooth, metallic on all four boxy edges. My breath caught in my throat, I couldn't believe Auntie would give me a lighter that got us here in the first place.

In that moment, Mom had to force herself to look away from Sara. I met her pained gaze and showed her the lighter in my hand. Her arm nearest to me tapped my elbow. In one smooth movement, I passed my mom the lighter and hoped the kidnappers didn't notice. They didn't, but I eyed Mom struggling with it. She had her arms seized together and while one hand succeeded in holding and opening the lighter, the other couldn't reach its silver wheel-thing.

Again, I tried sneaking a second time and flipped my thumb over the wheel-thing, like Mom attempted to do. A tiny flame burst forth, then she clamped her fingers over it. It turned out to be an instant match, to my astonishment.

Just as they released Sara, and started to surround me, Mom twisted her arms free to search in her shirt. Turning their backs on her, the kidnappers thought she'd given up. The willow boy caught on her plans and rushed over to warn the others. I had no idea what her plans were, only that fear began to eat on the words I couldn't say anything as they advanced on me with their hands like claws, and I began to understand Sara's instantaneous tears.

And then a sudden splash followed by a burst of fire cutting between us, much angrier than before. When the kidnappers realized their predicament in heated silence, Mom had already snatched me along with Sara clinging to her back. Spurned on from a melting bottle, the fire was an unrelenting blaze that spiraled around its prisoners, I was realizing, cornering the kidnappers and allowing us to reach the door.

Once we made it outside, we followed the carriage's trail away from the building. It only took a few minutes before we heard gunshots. Despite Mom's warnings, the others dispersed from the trail.

Fear might've gone to their heads, but that wasn't with Mom. The cornerstone of stability, Mom sighed and wiped her sweating brow. Dirt and blood sullied her skirts, and I helped her bunch it up. She kissed my grimy cheek, as always her way of thanks, and murmured against my skin, "We're getting out of here, baby."

Her exhaustion was obvious. Sara climbed off her and flew around her in worry. I had an idea. Testing out my wings too, I suggested, "We'll fly you out of here, Mom."

"That's alright, Sasa." At once, she started to run again while Sara and I flew close. "Don't go too far up, but if you see trouble, come down at once," she advised before we arced around her and tilted into the sky.

It didn't feel like we were being chased. In all honesty, we were still out in the mountainsides so it could've been another day out on the sky. Sara was being careless as he dipped down, before gliding his way beside me again. He could do that. Me, I kept a close watch on Mom who kept a steady pace underneath us. Auntie found us by this point and flew over Mom's shoulder, keeping her caws to a minimum.

"Hyung," Sara muttered and pointed beyond my head. "He's in trouble."

Not too far from us was quail-guy, struggling to fly straight as his siblings chittered atop him. His broken leg wasn't helping his flight at all, and I knew he wasn't strong enough to hold four of his siblings. Before I could figure out a way to help, Sara screeched, "They're coming!"

He was right. Not too far from the quail guy, three kidnappers were following him by carriage. With one glance, I could see the terror deforming his pained expression and I was terrified as well, but I knew.

"Sasa-hyung?" breathed Sara just as I changed our path and dove off.

If there was a plan, I didn't have a clue as to what it was. Actually, it might've been stupidity or it might've been what those heroes called their gut feeling, their bravery. I guess I just wanted to help when it looked like he already decided he had to die, along with his innocent siblings. We were all innocent, but there was something inexplicable to this day when I didn't think for myself. I just headed into the kidnappers' view, closer to them than the quail family.

It worked when they veered their carriage toward me. I shot one glance back to Sara before flying away from them. I hoped that he listened, that he would stay away with Mom.

Thankfully, they didn't feel the need to use their weapons. I flew with fear heavy on my wings, and I prepared myself for the flashes of pain. There were none at first, but then a hooked rope caught into my shoe. Easily, I wiggled out of there before flying higher. It was my mistake not to fly out-of-range in the first place when a second hook unexpectedly lashed toward me, catching the bone of my left wing.

It hurt, agony just as sharp as being stabbed into any other part of my body. My strength plummeted, my wing froze mid-flap, and I fell from the sky, a black star shooting down from the bright blanket of the afternoon sky.

I crash-landed at an edge of a cliff, just inches away from freedom in a below forest. Pain pulsed as my left wing panicked wildly, spreading black feathers near me. For the second time, they surrounded me. They murmured how much of a shame my wing would be, but I hear them dropping numbers of prices down, like I was to be sold.

Was I supposed to be sold?

Out of nowhere, a leaf-covered blur emerged from the trees and slapped a kidnapper. They emitted a string of curses as Auntie snapped at them with her clawed toes and my mother—Mom buried her face into my neck as she unhooked the rope. I swore she could have said something like an apology, or was it her honeyed words of affection? My wing continued to ache. As leaves fluttered from her hair to mine, Mom pressed a single kiss to my mouth before she shoved me off.

As I was falling, I could hear two things: Auntie cawing again and again, and a distinctly clear burst of gunshots.

•

"Hey, kid." My eyes didn't open, but I curled into this warmth like no other and fluttered my wings—both wings—without difficulty as I had always flown. "You're going to be okay."

•

When I woke up, there was Sara, sleeping against me. A small bandage patch stuck to his hair. A chair next to us held Dad's windbreaker. I gave the room a three-sixty look. This was a hospital and my dad had been around here so…

Gently, I moved out of bed. After tucking the blanket around Sara, I padded my way out of the room and closed the door quietly behind me. The question then was where to go next? The hallway seemed empty aside from a nurse typing on some hallway machine. I just decided to head to where there were more sounds, but before I turned a corner, someone tapped my shoulder.

I was swiveled around and ran into a strange man. He wore a doctor's coat and glasses that magnified his narrowed gaze. I thought he was upset with me.

I said, "I'm sorry, doctor."

His hand covered his mouth like he was stopping himself from throwing up. No, he was laughing. "Doctor?" he guffawed and kneeled, his arms across his knees. I wasn't that short. "I did save your life, kid."

Oh. His voice was familiar. I thought why would come to me, but it didn't. "Who are you?"

"I'm a healer," he said, showing me his hand. A sort of muted light coated his palm. It was something. No, actually, it was kinda lame. "Huh. I did use up all my healing today so it doesn't look much." His hands back onto his knees, he explained, "I used most of it for your wing. Should fly good as new, right?"

I tried my wings out, stretching them out instead of flying, in case a Mom-like nurse was nearby. There was no sting at all, just a pleasant release of muscles. I mustered a small smile and mumbled, "Thank you." But then I glanced around and asked, "What happened?"

Instead of answering, he pulled me into a waiting area. He disappeared for a moment so he could buy me banana milk and, while I sipped through the straw, he said, "You were involved in a kidnapping slash pet ring case." He didn't elaborate on that, and instead explained how he got here, "I got called down from Seoul to come to this nondescript mountain and then your father comes to the cops. I'm working with them with my team by the way, and he's crying that his wife and sons, who're coincidentally mixed with crow blood, have been kidnapped. Imagine my luck."

If he worked with the police, I thought it was obvious then. "Are you a hero?"

Winking, he showed me the inside of his coat, revealing assortment of knives and other stuff I didn't know. Or he could be a bad guy too. "Mainly a healer, but I know how to defend myself." Shaking his coat back on, he said, "Anyway, some crows guided us to these poor people running amok in the mountains, and then to you. I thought you were dead."

"I'm not. And my mom?"

His eyes hardened at that. Lying would be easier, but he told me, "Your mother had been shot several times." In the back of my head, I'd known this yet tears pricked at my eyes much faster than usual. "She was close to death when we found her, but she's in critical condition right now."

"Is she gonna be okay?"

"Critical condition usually isn't. Ahh, uhm. Kid, let's just hope for best case scenario?"

He couldn't have known. But hearing those exact words caused my tears to flow by the tenfold, like all the water might drain from me in one night. Turned away from him, I drank the rest of the milk and muttered, "Can I have more?"

"Of course, kid. Oh, right, what's your—"

"Sasa."

"Right, Sasa, 'course, Sasa, I'll get you more milk! What kinda question's that? Right, more milk, I'll be back!"

He brought me six cartons of banana milk, and he left during my third one. I didn't even know his name, but he promised to come back the next morning. The hero seemed nice since he was the one doing the talking while I drank in silence. I saved the last three for Sara and Dad because they must be depressed at the news as well. I hoped Dad would know more than that hero did, but just as I turned the corner back to my room, I ducked back around.

There was Dad and a different, probably real, doctor. I would've been happy to see him but not like that. He was on his knees, his head bowed, his wings tucked properly behind him. I only got a moment's glance of him, but his voice was even worse.

Low with conviction, he said, "I beg you once more… I'll do anything—I don't have much, but no matter what you want, I'll give it all to you if you will… please, let me see my wife…"

The blood within my body all turned to ice. It was difficult for me to believe this would happen in a hospital out of all places. Dad was begging him, a position I'd known him to do before. My back slid down the wall and I plopped against the corner with wide eyes, refusing to blink. Though it made sense, in this regard, that I was the accursed son to give into Dad's misfortune.

The doctor said something rotten, demeaning my father. My hand rose to clamp over my mouth, my grinding teeth, my hiss of a breath. I wanted to go over and yell at this doctor, like Mom would do, but she wasn't here because this so-called person wouldn't let Dad see her.

Even now, the mere memory of his words boils my blood all over again.

"Please." There was a shuffling sound, and I imagined Dad was gripping the edges of his coat. "Please, if not me… Please allow my sons… They must feel terrible over what happened, my eldest—He must see his mother, please give my sons a chance, I beg of you…"

"No," the doctor said, a powerful, definite response.

"If-If there's anything—"

"There's nothing for you here."

"I'll do anything, give anything, anything at all…"

"Your kind should know better than to come here." The doctor left Dad alone after that.

•

The hero came by again, early in the morning. With a basket of fresh fruit, he entered Sara's and my hospital room with Dad's permission. They met when the hero rescued me and he accepted Dad's offer to sit down to eat fruit with us. As he peeled an apple, the hero introduced himself, "You can call me Doyoung." He winked at Dad and Dad smiled back, tiredly since I knew him better. Then to us, he said, "You kids can call me—"

"Hero-nim?" I suggested.

He handed me and Sara an apple slice. "Nope. Call me Hyung… Hyung-nim."

Wrinkling his brow, Dad said, "If you don't mind me asking, how old are you?" Hyung-nim reached over to whisper in his ear. That incited a barely-there smile to reach Dad's face and he said, "I understand. Sasa, Sara, call him 'Hyung-nim.'"

My apple slice was untouched as I cocked my head curiously. After scarfing down his piece, Sara plucked mine from my fingers. I didn't mind. Reaching for a grape, I asked Hyung-nim, "Do you know what's happening with my mother?"

Though Sara couldn't tell, I noticed Dad flinching in his seat but he smiled at Hyung-nim who answered, "No, I don't actually." He handed Dad an apple slice as he asked, "All answers should come from you, right?" Reverting to his quietude, Dad nodded and bit into the apple. "Don't you know the condition with your wife?"

A hand over his mouth, Dad chewed and fell silent for a moment. Then he leaned over, closer to Hyung-nim to whisper something short. Eyes elsewhere, Hyung-nim messed his glasses before he nodded and said, "Hey, kiddos, I'm gonna have a quick talk with your dad." We nodded as Sara hopped over to the fruit basket and immediately seized the raspberries. "We'll be right back."

While Sara ate like he'd been starved for weeks, I said to him, "They're not letting Dad see Mom."

Cheeks full, he popped his finger from his lips and swiveled to me, more hamster than crow. "Wmas' 'ou wean?"

"They won't let Dad see Mom 'cause he's a mixed-human."

He chewed thoroughly and swallowed before offering some to me. "Mom said that's not nice. We should never disc'imate 'cause of our species."

"Don't you want to see Mom, Sara?" I asked, fiddling with the raspberry.

"I wanna see Mommy."

Feeling a lot older than I really was, I sighed. "Me too."

The doors opened again, and Hyung-nim took a seat on the bed, between me and Sara. Dad hung in the back, rubbing his neck. I wondered what he had to be shy about until Hyung-nim declared to us, "I'm gonna help you guys to see your mother."

•

Sara and I were cramped on a metal cart, apparently used for carrying medical machines. A white blanket fluttered on top of the metal top as we sidled close to each other on the bottom layer. The tops of our wings curved atop the metal to fit. It ached already, like we'd sit crisscrossed for too long. We endured it, even when people talked to Hyung-nim.

"Almost there!" he said, probably looking crazy to other people. "Just gotta open this door."

"Excuse me."

"Shit," he muttered and his shoes squeaked as he turned. "Can I help you?"

"What's this?"

"Who are you to ask me questions?"

"I'm the nurse in charge of this patient."

"I'm the secondary doctor in charge of this patient."

Someone was flipping papers. "I wasn't notified there was a secondary doctor."

"Well there was, and that's me, and I got some secondary doctor duties to do, so let me do my shit or you can take it up with the main man."

With that, he shoved us inside the room and closed the door tight after us. Immediately, Sara and I flew from our hiding space to our mother. In bed, she appeared to be asleep with these tubes and machines and stuff hooked up to her. Bandages wrapped around her arm, her arms, and underneath her papery shirt, I could see more that was colored with blood. Worry twisted my insides, but Sara and I bubbled with delight to be near her again.

"Probably shouldn't have said shit," muttered Hyung-nim as he stood before Mom's bed. He snatched up a clipboard on the headboard and read off, "She's been in surgery for five hours? Uhh, shit, this doesn't look so... there's no sign of her waking up—"

There was a sound like the breath of oncoming night. "Sasa?"

Relief washed over me as I pressed her hand to my cheek. "Mommy?"

"Mommy!" Sara gasped and took her other hand.

From behind her mouth-thing, Mom gave us a small smile. "Sara, my baby, my lil' lullaby." Her hand brushed through his hair and he giggled. When she craned her head toward me, Mom looked to be more exhausted than ever. "Sasa, could you…?" she mumbled.

Hyung-nim stepped forward and placed a hand on my shoulder. I thought it was an action out of strength, not of sympathy. "Yeah, Mommy?"

"Sasa…" she said, sobs stifling her voice. Even now, Mom was, and would always be comfort at its core, the warmest, and softest known to me. "Sasa, for Mommy, you have to…" Mom's words were beginning to meld with each other and I leaned into her. "I want you to treat your brother well… take care of your father… Sasa?"

My head was shaking on its own. I didn't understand. Or maybe I refused to.

"We should go," Hyung-nim declared and touched my Mom's bare hand. "My apologies, Sasa's Mother, but I don't have enough to heal the mess you're in." With that, he started to bundle the medicine stands onto her bed, but Mom stopped him. She didn't know him, yet she tilted skyward into his ear, whispering secrets to him as my father did. "Ohhh, um, I see," he murmured and he unplugged her from everything. Then Mom wound her arms around Hyung-nim's neck. He carried her and nodded at Sara and me. "Let's go take her to your dad."

We burst from the door, almost crashing into a couple of nurses and that one despicable doctor. Without hesitation, Hyung-nim fled along with Sara and me flying behind him. It didn't us take long to reach our room, but Dad wasn't there.

Auntie was there, finishing up the fruits basket, and cawed at me.

"What? Where'd he go?" Hyung-nim said. Mom was curled into his chest, safely asleep from the madness we were instigating. "You speak crow?"

I pointed. "He's talking on the roof!"

We rushed two flights of stairs to make it to the roof. All the while, Mom could barely speak with Hyung-nim before she moved less and less. It wasn't the hospital that was our enemy anymore. Hyung-nim knew this and he winked at me just as we huffed before a door, one marked 'Roof Access.' Out of triumph, Hyung-nim beamed as Sara and I opened it for him, revealing our father's figure standing solemnly against a cloudless, blissful morning.

My aunts and uncles suddenly scattered into the sky. Lost, he turned to us and his gaze rested solely on Mom. "Sabe?"

"Your husband's here!" Hyung-nim's grin flashed from Dad to Mom, then vanished in a moment as though he never smiled. Forever could've passed before he crossed the distance, walking wordlessly toward Dad. As Hyung-nim passed Mom into his arms, he said, "Please allow this." Dad still bore this lost-deer look in his eyes, even when Hyung-nim covered her face with his coat.

"Hyung?" Sara nudged his hand against mine.

I wound my fingers with his, never tearing my eyes from my parents, not even for a moment. Not when a wave of staff spilled onto the roof, especially not when my father lifted my mother's limp hand and gently kissed the back of it. Like this was just after dawn, like this was just every other morning, he waited for her, watching her as I always did, yet his affections were never returned.

Overhead, crows were cawing, but I heard my family singing, no, mourning for my mother.

•

* * *

 **a/n:** i cant make up my damn mind where to put author's notes so i'll try to continuously place it at the end. maybe lol. so anyway _**happy birthday sasa**_ have my headcanon for how your mom died~ also if you're reading rookie reds, yea, obviously, this is the same doyoung. i brought him back to life call me a necromancer lmao.

thank you to **SmolAsianBean** for editing (and reviewing? you didn't have to) and thank you to **Siena, divaileth, cuttoncandyhair,** and **Eternal Nocturne** for kind words aaa.


	3. Chapter 3

•

 _slowly i start to speak_  
 **three**

•

After Mom died, home was the quietest it'd ever been. She would've liked this quietude. Looking back on it, she always used to scold Sara and me because we either fought too loudly or played too loudly, whatever it was we did together. Nowadays, Sara would cry for hours on end, and I would shed my tears a bit differently than him without the loud, body-wracking sobbing. I thought Dad would at least mourn as I did, but I'd never seen him let go of a single tear.

An image is engraved in my eyes of the moment it dawned upon my father that she was gone. Strangers surrounding him, reminding me of kidnappers, and my father hid his face into her throat as he refused to let her go.

Knowing that, and something else the adults couldn't tell me and Sara, Hyung-nim wanted to stay. He could've gone back to the city, but he promised he'd stay with us. The funeral was something Dad couldn't sort out, even with my aunts and uncles telling him the same, sympathetic things. Hyung-nim said grief was a long, long, _long_ process.

"Sasa," Hyung-nim said. "Don't loosen your collar."

My hand lowered to my side. I didn't like this funeral stuff. Yeah, because we were all here to accept Mom wasn't coming back. But these stupid suits were unbearably uncomfortable, like being sewn with nettles and burs. I had never worn a suit in my life, and in that moment, I swore this would be the first and last time.

Dad, Sara, and I were all dressed drably at the front of the funeral. A little farther away, Hyung-nim leaned against a wall, like he sorta belonged here. From what Hyung-nim told me, my family and I were to greet everyone who came. They would give us their condolences. Dad would thank them for coming, and I would try not to waste all my glances at the flowered photograph of Mom at the front.

There were tables at the other end of the room. My aunts and uncles crowded a single table, sneaking looks at the forlorn figure that was my father. Nearby, my cousins were complaining to each other because they weren't allowed to play outside.

As my stare strayed to Mom again, Sara whispered, "Is Grandfather coming?"

Sara was right. Since our mother's side lived hours away, everyone from Dad's side of the family was already here, except for Grandfather. He was a full-blooded crow, having married my human Grandmother, before she passed away before Sara was born. Mom's death should have hit him as hard as it did for Dad.

Pain surfaced in my stomach as though I swallowed a knife. A hand there, I gritted my teeth and held my head level to the ground.

Sara uttered something soft, but we all heard the _bang_ of the front door. I didn't think Mom would have any enemies, but as a strange man with her eyes burst into the room, I tasted something grounded in my mouth. Stumbling after him, two familiar humans tugged at his rolled-up sleeves. As he locked eyes on Dad and stalked toward him, I realized I'd been clenching my teeth.

In one silver-quick motion, the stranger seized the front of my father's shirt. Sara and I flew onto our feet even though fear stopped us from doing anything else. Red-eyed, the stranger shouted, "This is all your fault!"

The people that came with him hurried with outstretched hands. As they did, a light clicked in my head. I recognized them. My grandmother from my mother's side cried as she waved Sara and me over to her. Shouting at the stranger, my grandfather shook him, attempting to free my father.

With little strength, Dad placed his hands over the stranger's and said nothing. I wanted him to say something in his defense. But if I was in his place, what could I have said?

The pain worsened, twisting and cutting up my insides, and I doubled over in my grandmother's arms. Sara wailed my name over and over. He was right next to me, yet my name sounded like a muffled echo. On my other side, my grandmother's hands rubbed circles underneath my wings, calm and comforting. When I got the chance, I looked up and saw Hyung-nim, calm and collected, as he touched where my arms were wrapped around, and a light much cooler than before glowed within me.

"Feeling a lil better?" he said and lowered his phone. I didn't know what happened to me, but it ebbed away, bit by bit. "I was calling the police. I should stop them 'bout now."

Hyung-nim was better at forcing them apart than Grandfather and had wrestled the stranger away from Dad. To the stranger, Grandfather scolded, "Sabin, you know better than to treat your brother-in-law like that."

I didn't like his likeness to a rabid animal when he snapped. The uncle I finally met spat onto the ground before my father. "He is no brother of mine," he growled, more animal like than before. I lowered my eyes and somehow, I knew Dad was doing the same. "Sabe would be alive if he wasn't!"

 _That can't be true,_ I heard Sara whisper behind me and I gritted my teeth without knowing it. It hurt but I couldn't stop myself. Sara muttered something under his breath, his hand gripping my arm. I had to see. A few feet away, my aunts and uncles hovered protectively over my father's bowed head and screeched at Sabin with words he couldn't understand.

Grandfather pleaded, "Sabin, control your—"

"I told Sabe there was no good being with an animal! I warned her," he said with a freaky fury and his thrashing intensified ub tenfold. By now, the other people here were wrangling him away from my father, who even then, had his head down. "She said—She told me there was good in you, but _you_ —" he roared at my faceless father, "you forced her to give up her dreams, you forced her to stay in this wretched mountain, and now you and your bird-breeds forced her death, _you half-demon!_ "

My elders defended my father, shrieking louder than the howl of a storm. I could hear someone crying. My grandmother covered Sara's and my ears. It was easier for us to feel her soft sobs into my hair. She was crying, and for just a moment, I wondered if everything Sabin said was true.

Someone lost their hold on him. A gasp escaped my throat as he wrenched forward, a clawed hand hungry for my father. He was fast, but not fast enough, as another rushed in between them. In a cloud of black smoke, my father's father, my grandfather, in his full form loomed above all else. With his wings fully spread and overshadowing my father, he emitted a screech that demanded silence throughout the whole room.

From what I could see, everyone had frozen on the spot. Yet, I watched as a lone person crawled from underneath Grandfather and toward another lonesome person. Sabin neither said nor did anything to my father. Inexplicably, Dad had lowered even further, his forehead meeting the polished floorboards, and his wings leveled formally along his back.

In a voice I'd heard before, he said to Sabin, "It's my fault. All of it." His fingers strayed, brushing against Sabin's shoes. "Forgive me."

There was a gravelly sound like gritted teeth that weren't my own.

"Sara. Sasa," Grandmother whispered and nudged us away. "We should go." My cousins hopped around our feet, spanning their wings as though to shield us. The eldest clawed onto my shoulder, tapped her beak against my damp cheek.

•

The funeral was a disaster, or so Hyung-nim told me. He'd been to a couple funerals in his time and, apparently, there were a lot of crazy stuff, but my mother's was "a top contender for the most drama-like drama." He could tell that Sabin had been 'inebriated' before he arrived, and Hyung-nim paused before he explained what that meant. Then he looked to me like he was looking for permission. I didn't know why. I didn't care what else happened that day. Or maybe I didn't want to care.

He also told me he was leaving in a few days. He had a family back in the city that he needed to return to. But I understood that he needed to leave this wretched mountain.

My head hurt. I didn't want his hateful voice here. Sabin's knife-like words sliced into my mind, cutting lengths of curiosity and bleeding a dangerous amount of baseless belief. That day, I wondered if what he said was true. I saw the same question on Sara's face too.

It was in the middle of another sleepless night when I sat up and shook Sara's shoulder. Even though he spent his nights crying to sleep, he could still sleep like a log. Whether it was a hurricane or a tragedy, Sara could probably sleep through it all. I should have expected that. I checked on Sara's other side of our shared bed, where Dad should've been asleep. I expected my own father to be there, but he wasn't.

Because I was awoke anyway, I came to a stand and left the room. It was Sara's idea to sleep together, just the three of us and leaving him alone felt like a bad idea. It wouldn't hurt him if I came back in time.

Home was quietest at night like always. But now the quiet was unbearable. Without Mom, I would've believed if silence itself replaced her presence.

The bathrooms doors were unlocked. The kitchen's lights were off and I still couldn't make out my father's form in the light. He wasn't there in the living room too. I don't know why but I also checked on Sara's and my room. My cousins were bundled up in our beds, clustered together like feathered kittens. I didn't want to wake them up so I closed the door as quietly as I could and padded silently away to somewhere else.

It was strange that I couldn't find my father anywhere in the house. The last possbility was the outside, encroached with darkness. I checked anyway, finding my oldest cousin perched on the back porch.

She hopped, turning around to me. "Sasa?" she gasped. When she stepped back, her toes clicked against the floorboards. "Why are you up?"

I sat beside her and tugged on my rubber slippers. "Have you seen my dad, Demi-noona?"

"Sasa, listen to me," she said and flew onto my shoulder. "You should go back to sleep, alright?" Demi's right wing brushed against my nape, which felt more ruffled than usual.

After I slipped on my shoes, I skipped onto the ground. Thin, but cold, blades of grass tingled my toes as I slowly made my way through the dark. A flashlight would've been useful. Since I didn't have one, and since my cousin forbade me, I wasn't allowed to search the woods way in the back, but there were a few places nearby that Dad could be.

Demi continued to say, "Sasa, go back to bed."

I reached the old well, making sure to run my hand against the crumbling brick. I didn't think anyone used this well in ages, but maybe... "Dad? Dad, are you here?" I whispered. To Demi, I asked again, "Where's my dad?"

"He's fine."

I wasn't stupid. I said, "Can I see him?"

"You'll be bothering him."

"I can't be bothering him. It's the middle of the night. It makes sense to me I would want to know where he is."

"Sasa," Demi sighed, a wing to her pressed beak. I noticed the universal sign of exhaustion when I saw it. "Just listen to me and go back to sleep, alright?"

"No," I said with steely stubbornness as I walked around our home garden. It had only been a week since her death and yet nothing grew like it used to. "Dad? Dad!" I tried calling again with cupped hands.

There was one more possibility so while I was heading there, Demi flapped and blurted, "Sasa, stop it." I didn't. Feeding the darkness, black feathers whipped against my cheeks as she flew before my face. "Sasa, I'm telling you to stop! You're not gonna like this if you keep going! Sasa, I'm older than you! You should be listening to me!"

Demi's yelling cut off there. We were a couple feet away from the tool shed with the dinky, blinking door light. The bulb flickered on and off, moths flying shapeless paths around it, and barely illuminated any light on the door.

I didn't need the light. I needed my father.

Before I took another step, Demi whispered, "Sasa." This time, my feet stopped in their tracks. "Don't say that I didn't tell you so."

In some sort of vengeful help, she flew sharply above me and then shoved me to the ground. I muffled my ' _oof_ ' into the dirt before she returned onto my shoulder. Tasting worm food in my mouth, I wanted to swat Demi off but she shook her head when I tried to stand. It was my understanding that she wanted me to crawl toward the shed.

My understanding was correct as I made my way against the ground. I could spot my aunts and uncles upon the roof of the shed, talking amongst each other, and I caught bits and pieces of their conversation;

"— _just do so in front of his children_ —"

"— _much easier if he was just like us_ —"

"Sasa?"

Everyone had something to say, Mom once told me in one of her life lessons. But I wondered if I really had any of my own. "Oh, sorry," I whispered back. "Where's my dad?"

Like a clothespin upon my earlobe, Demi tugged on my right ear, meaning I should go further right. There was a window upon the shed's right side, which was pulled up halfway. I pulled myself up underneath it and exhaled a sigh of relief through my chattering teeth. Right against me, my cousin mumbled about teeth being a disadvantage of being human as I slowly lifted my head to catch a glimpse of the shed's inside.

A moment was all I needed to see. My father was indeed inside, alive and well. Well, well was subjective when more accurately, he was grieving. It dawned upon me why I and Sara never saw our father let go of a single tear.

We never saw Dad crying because he didn't want us to. It didn't make sense that I've already seen his positions of submission. It wouldn't make a difference if this was weakness as well.

Sara and I were weak after all. But I—I was weak enough that I couldn't save her.

My wings and back against the worn wood, I began to curl my arms over my knees. Demi hopped onto my head and her clawed toes digging into my scalp were nothing compared to my hollow chest. There was so much sharp pain before that I didn't know what to make of the nothingness. I didn't think this was normal.

"Sasa?"

And then it all made sense, and I understood. Perfectly, in a clear skies kind of clarity.

Maybe it was a moment of weakness for my father. But, above all, it was a moment of premonition, a warning for my eyes alone. My father who had loved my mother so dearly would befall to a tragic ending as deep as his love for her, as dark as she was his light. I didn't think I could love someone as much as my father did. I had no need to love someone as my father did. I may be my father's son, but I was not my father's shadow.

I could still hear my father sobbing for someone who was never coming back. I would not fall into despair like that. This was, in a word, irrevocable.

No one would fall into these cursed hands.

•

The day Hyung-nim had to leave, he said he wanted to treat us. Dad had to take care of other stuff. He said he would meet us at the train station so he could give his goodbyes to Hyung-nim too. After he left, I asked Hyung-nim if there was something off with my father. Hyung-nim said he wouldn't know my father's usual and took Sara and me to the market.

We went during prime time. There was a crowd today, milling about and strewing the stalls with conversations. The good stalls were out and Sara immediately knew what he wanted. Already with a tiny basket in hand, he cried at Hyung-nim, "Raspberries!"

A bill in his hand, Hyung-nim paid the stall owner and said, "Two please." Then he pushed a basket into my hands with an encouraging smile.

"Thanks," I mumbled. By my side, Sara gorged himself with raspberry red streaking around his face. He could've passed for a real vampire, which I thought was a little funny. His happiness was obvious when his feathers began to furl out. Uneasiness stung down my spine as I picked up a raspberry, slow to chew it with my teeth. "It's good," I told Hyung-nim, tasting nothing sweet, but rather an explosion of sour memories. I swallowed, leaving a bad taste down my throat.

As Sara skipped ahead of us, Hyung-nim whispered, "You don't like it."

I met his gaze, wide-eyed. How did he know?

"Sasa, a word of advice." He crooked a finger to me so I leaned in. "Don't tell people you like it when you look like you've been forced to eat out of the garbage," he snickered.

I guessed I was too obvious. Hyung-nim was too good. I handed the raspberries to him and said, "Sometimes, my cousins eat out of the garbage."

His snickering accumulated against his hand. "Is that so?" he asked.

Slowing down to us, Sara popped in and quipped, "Mom said we're not allowed to eat outta the garbage." Hyung-nim passed over Sara my basket before recalling, "She said that's 'cause we have hands. Not like them, we can make food."

"Smart woman."

"She is," Sara said.

A moment passed. He never corrected himself so I did. "She was."

"Oh, yeah, Hyung." His head bobbed up and he gave a bashful grin. "Hyung-nim, let's go over there!" he ordered.

Sara tugged him there, but Hyung-nim grabbed my hand. I was dragged over with them to a _patbingsu_ stall. That was weird. Those rarely came out the mountain area, even in the summer time. I thought they were here because of Sara's luck. It just definitely didn't have anything to do with me. I knew that for sure.

Hovering in the air, Sara flapped his wings and screeched, "Look at the shaved ice!" Hyung-nim nodded because he probably saw _patbingsu_ all the time in the city. Unbeatably eager, Sara flew over to me, his fingers pinching my shirt. "Hyung, hyung, when's the last time we had red bean?" he said, his wings fluttering a lil faster.

 _When Mom was alive_. Or, actually, I didn't remember the last time.

"Hey!" Hyung-nim called to us, pointing to two bowls of shaved ice. "You guys wanted red bean?"

"Yeah!" Sara and I said.

"You guys want _tteok_ too?"

Oh, that was new. I heard about having rice cake too. I didn't know what it'd taste like.

"I'm taking that as a yes."

"Yes!" Sara gasped, flying over.

As Hyung-nim pulled him to sit on his shoulder, I walked over and placed my hands on the counter. The air was mostly humid with the summertime and all these people milling about, but the _patbingsu_ stall was noticeably cooler. Must be the shaved ice machine. My fingers lifted, leaving my prints swirled on the metal. "Yeah," I repeated.

"Got it, kiddos. _Tteok_ on all, please." With that, he handed me and Sara a bowl. Then he held his own bowl and paid the stall lady. "What're you looking at?" Sara and I were staring at his shaved ice. "No way, I didn't get my own so I can share with you guys," he said and covered his bowl with his free hand.

Sara and I shared a look. We had our own but those didn't matter. Our spoons were raised and Hyung-nim took a step back.

A moment later, we ate our shaved ice on a flowery knoll facing the lower levels of the mountain. Hyung-nim had his bowl outward, offering to Sara and me. Without even realizing it, our pattern was to take a spoonful from our own bowl before dipping into Hyung-nim's, and back into our own.

He huffed and balanced his plastic spoon on his tongue. Again, I stole from Hyung-nim's bowl, cold and sweet. As my teeth grinded against melting ice, I felt a little more grounded.

"Sasa."

I glanced at him. He was offering his bowl to Sara now, catching onto our rotation. Without looking at me, he said, "You doing okay?"

Suddenly, it hit me, a twisting, turning black hole in my chest, darker than searching for my father in the night. I missed her. Much more than I did this entire day, much more than I did in this entire, horrible week. I had to answer him. I had to do something. For a reason I didn't understand, I mustered my lips together in a smile-like imitation that wouldn't convince anyone, much less Hyung-nim who'd already seen through my simple statement.

My _patbingsu_ dripped milky-white trails down my bowl. I set it down in the grass and wiped my sticky fingers on my shorts.

"Sasa?" Hyung-nim called.

I told him the truth. "I don't know."

"Well, that's alright." Hyung-nim stared straight ahead. I didn't know when but Sara had placed his bowl down earlier so he could play with some chicks in the dirt streets behind us. His spoon in his bowl, Hyung-nim tipped his face into the sky. "Sara said he feels sad but he wouldn't cry anymore," he told me.

In the back of my mind, I realized Sara was stronger than me even when it came to Mom. We both were, of course we were, but he had an attachment to her that I would never have. Above all, he was blessed with Mom's gift to sing. I didn't understand how he could get over it so quickly, having been so attached to her.

A hand splayed in the space between my wings. I didn't look but Hyung-nim bent closer to me. He murmured, "He's still young, Sasa. And so are you."

Tears pricked at my eyes, threatening to expose myself before Hyung-nim. "Then why am I the one not over her?"

"Hey, hey." His hand raised, losing themselves in my hair when I dropped my head onto my raised knees and wound my arms around my face. It was safer to be confined to a dark space where I feel like I didn't exist. "Sasa, grief is a long, long, _long_ process. Remember?"

I answered with a sniffle.

His fingers continued to ruffle my hair. "Just because Sara said he wouldn't cry doesn't mean he isn't over it. It's a strong front that doesn't express his real emotions on the matter. I told you, he's still sad, isn't he?" he said.

My head lifted and I hoped I wasn't in tears. "Is he really?"

"Sasa, even if he wasn't, that's just Sara. Grief looks different on everyone."

"But I want to look strong too," I blurted.

Hyung-nim shrugged. "Who do you need to look strong for?"

It was tempting to look at my brother. I had good reason to look. Mom handed down to me the responsibility to take care of him, and I didn't like if it looked like he was the one taking care of me. I was stronger than this, I knew it. I always knew it, but when would I ever become that strong?

It wasn't just for this. In this grand, extensive world, there were all types of strength, much more than I had pitifully grasped. I thought as of that moment that I was pathetic as I was weak, always knowing of further strength, yet never obtaining it. And as Hyung-nim's profile faced the sun, I could see light within him that wasn't the sunlight or the healing—and it made me realize that there was strength within reach for me.

"Hyung-nim."

He squinted at me, a hand above his eyes. "Is the sun setting or is that just me?"

"Hyung-nim, I have a request."

"Shoot for it."

My words waited in my lungs, stewing in the seconds, before I released them on Hyung-nim, "Help me be a hero like you."

•

The station wasn't busy. No one visits the mountain much so there was only Hyung-nim and a small family preparing to leave. Due to my request, Hyung-nim promised me that he would come back and he promised Sara he would take us out for more _patbingsu_. He even said if our father allowed it, he could treat us to fancy city _patbingsu_.

A few minutes before Hyung-nim's train was to leave, I heard him. "I'm here! Sasa, Sara!" We waved at Dad as he flew onto the platform. "Doyoung!"

They shook hands. "Let me know if you need any help, okay, Urie?"

Dad rested his hands on Sara's and my shoulders. We were squished to his sides and our wings brushed all over the place. "I couldn't. You've been a great help. I couldn't do any of this without you." He tapped on the top of our heads. We all bowed our heads before Hyung-nim. "We are forever in your gratitude."

A hand on his suitcase, Hyung-nim gave us a wink. "Don't hesitate, okay?"

"I… We'll see."

A fist smacking his palm, Hyung-nim forwarded my father. "I have some last words for you. Good thing I remembered just before I left! Hahaha," he chuckled like there was a private joke between them.

Dad rubbed his neck and chuckled too, "Oh. Haha."

Behind Hyung-nim, the train doors opened, revealing a uniformed man. He ushered the family inside and was calling for Hyung-nim, but he didn't follow. Instead, I watched as Hyung-nim straightened his back and bowed his head before my father. I wondered why, since like Dad said, Hyung-nim had only given us so much even if he was an official hero.

Without saying anything, Hyung-nim hurried over to the train and plopped his baggage beside him. On the steps, he cupped his hands around his mouth, and he shouted his last words across the platform, the train's engine almost drowning him out, "I love you, Urie! Thank you for sharing your happiness and more!" I looked up to my father. The slow process of realization was freeing my father from the ball-and-chains of guilt, not all but some of those restraints grief had given him. "From now on, let us meet in the open sky!"

•

* * *

 **a/n:** is that ending obvious? i hope it was. alrighty thanks for editing **SmolAsianBean** , and im gonna go PH reply style.

 **divaileth:** tysm! lol if youre crying than i was doing something right and full of feels was the feel i was going for.


	4. Chapter 4

•

 _slowly i start to speak_  
 **two**

•

Whatever controlled this universe finally allowed me to waste the days away, blinking past weeks and months like they were pages of a book I'd always skim through.

I had a goal now. I had to become an employed hero like Hyungnim in a populous city far away. Though I'd yet to step foot in a sprawling community over a hundred people, Hyungnim often returned to the mountainside to teach me what it meant to be a hero. It wasn't all stupid bravery—no, of course it didn't when it led to a mistake, a mistake that ended my mom—, but also the physical capability of defending oneself.

My means of defense were "'simply awful' too, if I could only sacrifice myself.

"What you did was incredibly brave," said Hyungnim, his eyes on an apple he was currently peeling, "and you should have no regrets saving a life. But that doesn't mean your life always has to be on the line. Straighten your upper arm, Sasa."

I squinted, my forearm was already angled behind my head, and within my fingers was a plastic knife. If I did this right, even plastic could be dangerous enough. At least, that was what Hyungnim said. I inhaled and my upper arm tightened, straightened aside my ear, and then as I breathed out, I threw with my balanced might, letting go.

A resounding _thunk_ bounced off the target.

Hyungnim yawned. "Didn't straighten your arm enough," he quipped and tucked a peel of apple skin between his teeth.

As I went forward to collect the daggers off the leaves-covered ground, I didn't say anything but I wanted to. Like for one, was all this really necessary? Defending myself was important—I knew that, thanks to his constant lectures over that one time—but did I need to be that accurate? Wasn't it enough if I harm the attacker and they were distracted enough so I or anyone else could escape?

"No," said Hyungnim just as I plopped next to him on a fallen log. He dumped apple slices onto my lap, but I was more surprised with the fact I wasn't thinking to myself, actually. "Being accurate means one, you know what you're doing, and two, you know you will be safer. With enough practice," he told me with a blur of his arm, "your own safety shouldn't be too much of a concern." Empty-handed, he pointed to the target and close to the dead-center was his knife.

Immediately, I retorted, "Your knife is sharper than mine."

After digging around his coat, he offered a real knife to me. I declined and stabbed an apple slice with one of my rejected, plastic knives. I ate slowly even though breakfast was ages now, my stomach rumbling with impatience. I thought I was getting used to this routine. Getting up early was no problem, it was just throwing knives for hours on end until my arms cramped that I didn't think I could get used to.

I glanced at Hyungnim.

After he retrieved his knife, he dug his hand into his coat to pull out more apples. I had an inkling where he was getting those from. My side of the mountains was monopolized for apple orchards and I knew in return of his healing services, all the farmers were giving him enough apples to supply him for years. Hyungnim did say he was a healer, I'd just never thought about it since he was teaching me how to do some bad with a plastic knife.

But first I needed to know how to do something with a plastic knife. Back onto my feet, I tucked my fingers around the knife's hilt before immersing myself back into training.

Hyungnim piped up, "What's it with you and standing straight, Sasa?" I tried not to make a face but I knew my forehead creased in frustration. "You're a tall kid with tall arms. Straighten them. Maybe you'll intimidate your enemy into giving up if you stand straight enough." Without any warning, he tossed an apple slice at me and I whirled, straightened all of me, and automatically threw my knife.

It _thunked_ onto the crumpled leaves but Hyungnim and I didn't make a move to get stared at my plastic knife for a minute. It went through. It sliced into the apple slice and I couldn't believe I did that.

A low whistle sounded from Hyungnim's direction. "Maybe I should've been giving you moving targets from the start," he chuckled. I didn't like the sound of that. He leaned down to pick up the apple slice and inspected it from all sides. Anxiety crawled up my spine. "It's not a clean cut and you barely pierced through, but as of today, it's undoubtedly one of your most impressive moments," he told me.

Compliments were rare and then some. Hyungnim was in his way proud of me. I beamed.

"Now you just gotta do this a hundred more times before you're ready for the real thing."

A hundred seemed a bit excessive. I didn't tell Hyungnim that and threw the rest of my knives, maintaining, or trying to, the stance I had before. All six knives cluttered underneath the target, none of them even scraping the surface.

Hyungnim wasn't surprised. "You're standing better but now you're not using enough strength. Use your upper body, kiddo."

I gathered the knives again before doing so as he told me. I did it for at least eight rounds but Hyungnim didn't comment on my lack of progress. I didn't know if he was having second thoughts about teaching me. I hoped not. I needed this, even if it couldn't change anything back then, I needed to be stronger because there was no hope for me if I wasn't.

Mom needed me to be stronger.

"You're making an unusual expression," piped up Hyungnim. Mountain animals surrounded him, stealing at the mountain of apples he peeled (I wanted a coat if it meant infinite space), even a black bear who sniffed his coat. Bored almost, Hyungnim flicked its snout. I gaped at him. "Why don't we call it a day?" He was already standing and the animals flocked around him.

Though it was only me who he didn't shoo away and I craned my head to look at Hyungnim. He pinched a squirrel and a chipmunk out of his coat and dropped them on the ground. I didn't know what exactly they were saying but I understood they mentioned the acorn gods.

I told him, "You shouldn't eat acorns for a while."

A snap of his fingers startled me. "Damn, I was feeling _dotorimuk_ too."

I blinked because I hadn't eaten acorn jelly in a while either. I wanted to eat more. As though reading my mind, he reached into his coat again and offered a plastic bag of cookies to me. "My daughter is currently fixated with baking so it's a special treat for your hard work today." I ate a weird heart-shaped one and it tasted like cardboard topped with more cardboard. I didn't know if he was actually giving them to me to punish me working hard yet failing miserably.

"Delicious, isn't it?" Hyungnim hummed.

Rather than lie to him, I pointed to his coat."What else do you got in there?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" But then he winked at me and swept open his coat, giving another look when the first time was years ago. It looked like he added onto his collection because there were more pockets. "Oh, you should take this," Hyungnim said and dug in a pocket to hand me a bunch of small, silver sticks. "It's a lock pick!"

"A lock pick?" I repeated.

He nodded and gestured me to sit right there on the mountain trail. Making sure I was watching closely, Hyungnim showed me how to pick a padlock (or actually different types since he had the space for numerous locks) and how to hide a lock pick in my shoe. He explained as I tried hiding it myself. "You've been chained up before so this is your best friend." Little metal sticks were my friends. I wondered how likely that would be. "I've had my fair share of being locked up. Take it from me, you're gonna need how to learn how to pick locks. That or just shoot the damn thing," he laughed uproariously and I immediately turned to him.

"When are you gonna teach me to shoot?" I asked with a pointed glance to his coat.

Hyungnim looked at me like I insulted him. I shrunk my shoulders, my wings following, because I would never, ever commit a disrespectful act. "I'd like for you to never handle a gun, but from the looks of your current ability," he told me with a vague motion back at the training area, "you'll probably need some lessons here and there." Under his breath, Hyungnim grumbled, "That's ideal."

I didn't know if I was supposed to respond but I blurted, "I'm sorry, Hyungnim."

He stood up and brushed off his fancy city pants. "Not your fault, kid. When you're a hero, you need to be able to defend and protect. You've heard it before, right? A hero's gotta go what a hero's gotta do," Hyungnim drawled and handed me another set of throwing knives from his coat. "When you improve significantly, I'll give you some starters on the firearms. But! I am most definitely not allowing you to handle them." He eyed me down as if I was to say no. I wasn't. I hadn't a great desire to shoot, although it appeared to be more effective—and cooler, I'd have to admit—to wield a gun than a knife.

"Don't worry, kiddo, you'll be learning all sorts of awesome shit under my tutelage."

"Okay," I agreed because I had no choice.

"And, Sasa?"

"Yes?"

"You're going to improve. You know that right?" With those cookies still clinging to my taste buds, I might have to but I stared straight ahead like Hyungnim was doing and I gave him a nod. "Rome wasn't built in a day, you know," he told me.

But I didn't know where Rome was, much less the importance of a place like that. I didn't know a lot of important things and I could see that I had a lot of learning to do. Essentially, I would be resting my future then in his hands. Knowing that, my fingers pinched the end of his coat sleeve. "I know," I told him.

•

Hyungnim left a few days after that, back to the city. He could only come so often as a busy official hero and I still had to practice. After another session in the mountains, I flew back to my house and saw a familiar face lounging around the entrance. It took me a moment before I realized with a knot twisting my chest that it was the quail teenager. The one I risked my life for then hers and I tried to stop it but was the beginning of a cycle Hyungnim told me not to engage in.

Disengage. My mind drifted even as he forwarded me. I didn't want to be rude but I probably looked distant to him because I had to.

"Do you remember me?" he asked.

Yes. I did. Please go away. "I remember you."

"Thank you," he whispered and shook my hand with strength that reminded me of Mom in her last moments. "Thank you so much, Sasa-nim. I'm so sorry I never told you before. It was all so hectic. My parents moved me and my sisters, the chicks, away from here. I came back by myself but they're in your debt too."

I didn't care. That was unfair. I did care but I tried not to. Disengage, Hyungnim had told me.

My foot went back a step. "I don't want to talk about this."

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to—" he cut off and swallowed thickly. There was something blocking my throat and I was so used to my voice clamping there—I let it linger there. "Please allow me to repay your family."

"There's no need."

He grappled the end of my shirt. Automatically, like his touch was electricity, I pushed him away. "Please, please, Sasa-nim," he was pleading now and something else churned my stomach. All these somethings. I hated them. "I heard—I heard you lost—"

Hearing the end of that was all but unnecessary to me. We all lost something that day, whether we knew it or not, and I didn't think we were to measure our losses. I already knew who I lost. Whatever he thought to gain here with me would never measure up to losing her. I hoped he knew that as I stumbled around him and I was going to call for Sara but I heard him say it behind me.

"It was my fault she died."

I thought I was past this. I turned to him with my hand against the door. My hand stayed there but my attention was on him.

He was crying but he clearly said, "I saw it happen. I looked for you and I saw you and your mother—oh, God." Sobs poured from his throat and I knew there was no helping him. I couldn't even help myself as my legs were as flimsy like acorn jelly and I found my legs had given up beneath me, planted onto the floor. "It was terrible and if you can't forgive me, then you must at the very least blame me. Please, Sasa-nim, it's all my fault," he sputtered, his hands reaching out to me like I was more than a useless kid who was no better than before.

It would do me no good to blame, to forgive, to do anything he suggested because I didn't want to be here. I had to leave here, right now. Even though I could still feel sense in my muscles, my legs were like anchors, my wings like weights, and my breaths left my lungs like bees pouring from their flaming hives.

"Sasa-nim—" he called.

And I reached my hand into my pocket and then I threw back my arm.

Whatever else he wanted to say, he did not say it. Not because I hurt him but because Hyungmin's gift of throwing knives littered at his feet. They could not hurt him. But he didn't know that.

"I'm sorry," he said as though I didn't hear it enough.

"Please leave. Don't come back." He was quiet and I took advantage of it by getting up on shaky feet, dusting off my dirty pants, and I headed for the front door. Before I slid it open, I thought about Hyungmin's knives and I said, "Instead of coming to me, you need to be better by helping yourself." The door closed after me and I flew up the stairs, calling for my brother's name.

But where was Sara?

After much searching around, I found a trail of cracker crumbs leading to a ceiling door. It turned out we had a small attic area in our house. I didn't know it existed because it was connected to our dad's room. We didn't sleep in his room any longer but I supposed Sara found it during that time and just didn't tell me.

It was locked. That would be a problem. But then I thought of Hyungmin again and flew downstairs to retrieve my shoes.

Sara could've opened the door after hearing my shabby

attempts in picking the lock. Hyungmin wouldn't be proud of my first lock-picking moment, even after the lock popped open and I could peek inside. My brother was sitting closely before a boxy television from somewhere in this musty room. Our cousins had crept from inside an open window and immediately made their seats upon and around my brother. Demi saw me entering and flapped over to perch on my shoulder. On the other hand, Sara said nothing when he was already comfortable on old blankets and pillows that I thought Mom had thrown away.

As I picked one up, one with crows stitched in flight, Demi asked me, "How's your training?"

I shrugged. "You should've stayed with me and watched."

She cawed an ominous-sounding laugh. "If I wanted to see progress, I'd watch paint dry," she said dryly.

Demi might be my cousin but I felt no remorse as I closed my hand over her beak and she dug her talons into my thighs. Everyone wanted to annoy me when Sara finally looked over to me, reached over with two crab-like fingers, and pinched me. I looked to the television, which was fizzing and garbling in effort to work, until my mother's face appeared from between the monochrome static.

I opened my mouth but Sara shushed me with his hand against my mouth. I licked his palm and he squealed, wiping it down his pants. There wasn't another word from me anyway when we were focused on the forgotten youth of my mother's face.

She was wearing a high school uniform, the fancy one with white shirts and pleated, gray skirts. The young man next to her almost sent me into a heart attack but Sara shook his head wildly. I didn't know what that meant not until a voice announced on the television, like it was speaking from above, "—presenting two very incredible wunderkinds, please give a hand from the sibling singers, Sabin and Sabe!"

My uncle whom I thought I was supposed to detest played a wooden instrument on a stage. People were panned onto, gazing up at them expectantly. Then the screen was back to Sabin. There was a microphone in front of him but when he sang, his voice wasn't what I expected.

Sara whispered to me, "He sings very well, doesn't he?"

I whispered back, "If you're nothing but human."

"How'd you unlock the door, Hyung?"

I stiffened but gave a cool shrug. Whatever I had to say wouldn't matter as our cousins began to chip in too, saying things that they didn't really meant about an uncle we didn't really care about. Then we heard her.

Mom.

Her voice wasn't lost on me. Her image, both past and present, might be grayed from my memory but I could still hear her when I suddenly wake up, the notes of a lullaby lingering in the dead of the night. But this was her—her singing amplified to fall upon an audience and I realized even though we were decades in the future, we were dead silent. Our talkative cousins didn't release a single caw. Sara and I listened to our mother sing, something we never thought to hear so clearly as we did now.

Again, Sara whispered, "Mom sings much better than he does."

Yes, she did. When Mom sang now, she reminded me that I heard her voice sometimes when my brother's back was turned and he thought he was singing alone.

Again, I whispered back, "So do you."

This time, Sara kept his hand down to grin up at me. He bumped his head against my shoulder as Mom and her brother bowed to the audience. They left the stage and in a nice surprise, I saw my father greet her with open arms. Whoever was talking announced, "A marvelous last performance here in the mountainous town of _Yeongdomin_. By next week, these sibling prodigies will be heading to Seoul—"

"I want to go too, Hyung."

Our cousins and I snapped our heads to Sara. Grim determination matured his boyish face, imprinted in his furrowed brow, and it didn't look right. He still wore a headband to keep his bangs out of his face when he flew. He was Sara. And Sara was still Sara who was comfortable here in the mountains, much more than I was.

Demi spoke up, "Your dad won't let you." She hopped over to Sara's lap and poked his cheek in an attempt to whisper to him. "He's losing Sasa to the city too and he can't lose you too."

That was exactly what I was thinking. "What will you do, Sara?" I asked him.

He said, "I'll sing like Mom."

As our cousins heard that and were whispering among each other, Demi cawed in my ear, "I hear city kids are something else."

My cousins flew there before. They said hybrids lived there in masses because their laws were more enforced there. That would be good for the both of us but I told my brother, "Mom never went to the city. She stayed with Dad and had us, remember?" A pout puffed on Sara's face and I couldn't agree with Demi as much as I knew. He wouldn't fit there. Neither would I but unlike my brother, I had Hyungmin as my mentor. "Dad needs you to do the same."

The pout deepened, contrasting harshly with the narrowed glare of his eyes. It didn't have its effect on me. "That was her mistake, Hyung!" he exploded and shot onto his feet. With too much force, he tapped the television where it displayed Mom hugging her brother. "I mean, I'm glad she stayed to start a family and have us and everything, Hyung, but she missed her opportunity!"

"I didn't know you know that word," Demi piped.

A fearsome glare headed her way. "I heard Hyungmin say it. To you, Hyung. He said being an hero is an opportunity to do something amazing." His chest puffed, Sara waved his hand over Mom's face and said, "I think this is mine! Mom said I could sing! And Mom was good enough to go to Seoul and I think I can too 'cause this is her calling." He paused and stared at her within the television. From that look alone, I could believe he was still grieving. "It was hers. It's mine now. Dad would understand and so should y'all." For a moment, he looked proud enough of himself that he thought he was already on his way.

Demi and I shared a look. "We won't let you. Dad won't let you," we, as his elders, told him.

"I disagree."

Sara and I whipped our head to the open window where Dad was leaning his arms upon the windowsill. He was staring at me amusedly, but affectionately as always, before he entered through the window and took a seat behind me and my brother.

Together, we turned. "Dad," we called.

He didn't say anything and wound his arms across our shoulders. Dad was amazing in his own way because he was my dad and he didn't look like he aged from our dad in the television. Maybe, a little but Mom did say he contained enough youth for the both of them. I cracked a small smile, thinking of her.

"You're back early," chipped Sara.

He kissed the side of his head. "I had a feeling my boys would be conspiring."

Sara and I shared an uneasy look.

"I think your mother would have wanted you to go," Dad said to Sara. I blanked. What in the world did he mean? "Don't play dumb, boys. You two knew. I knew I stopped her from going to the city." With a shake of his head, he squeezed us against his shoulder. Sara and I both oofed into the sweaty cotton of his shirt. Thought this made it easier to hear Dad admit, almost to himself, maybe, "I'm not making that mistake again. I want you both to go, especially if you're going to be under the care of Doyoung-ssi."

I spoke up, "I don't think this is a good idea, Dad."

Sara stuck his tongue at me. Dad ruffled our heads, our hair messier than a chick's down. "I don't think that matters anymore. I'd rather the both of you to pursue what you both want," he said as his fingers linger on the back of our necks.

In a surge of confidence, Sara said, "I wanna go to the city and be a singer!"

Bright, glittery dreams flitted in his starstruck gaze. Dad caught his eye and gave a deep laugh. Sara's dream was what Mom had wanted and I wondered if this was retribution for her, in some way. I didn't know. As I looked back to the television, the screen paused upon my mother's dreamy expression, I wondered what mine reflected as I thought about my future.

What I wanted to be… In the city...

"Sasa-ya." My dad was calling and I met his eye with my stoic stare. He smiled like he did for Sara. And then he told me, "I don't want to see you hurt but I'd rather you try your best before you come back home."

 _Home_.

The mountains would always be my home. It was where Sara and I grew up, where Mom died, where I found my own calling as Sara called it. But I didn't know if I will be coming back, no, I had a goal now. I would succeed in becoming a hero, an embodiment of strength, of hope, and I knew if a hero had to do what a hero had to do—I had to run away in city far away to do this.

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 **a/n:** well... no excuse. im also laughing cause it literally took me a _WHOLE EXACt YEAr_ to update this... i knew it's been a while but not this much. i think i have an outline now so updates should be faster lol. thenks to **SmolAsianBean** for editing!

also thanks to!

 **cuttoncandyhair:** uhhh i think currently he's about. hmm. i think i have him at 7-9 when his mom died. a little under a year has passed so like 8 now? i will be time-skipping the next chapter haha. THANKS SO MUCH 💖 💖 💖

 **Kurow91:** yep! while there's other idwtkoh fics, i do feel like i'm the only... consistent writer for this lol? thanks for joining!


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